Dance With Me
by Alexandri
Summary: Lavender never expected the strange request to yield such happy results. Third in my Arts Series. Written in 2005.


**Title:** Dance With Me  
**Author:** Alexandri  
**Pairing:** Neville/Lavender  
**Rating:** K  
**Disclaimer:**Not mine. All the mistakes are though.

"You want me to do what?" Lavender gaped at the boy in front of her. Surely she'd misheard.

Neville shuffled his feet, a faint blush tinting his round cheeks as he raised shy eyes to her face. "I want you to teach me how to dance," he repeated softly.

"But why?"

"Because I don't know how."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "Why me?"

Shrugging, he said, "You know how to dance. You like to dance." His gaze shifted to his rather large feet. "So will you teach me?"

The last thing Lavender wanted to do was teach Longbottom the Walking Diaster how to dance. Just the thought of the abuse her feet would suffer was enough to make her want to run screaming from him. But he'd asked so nicely and he'd never asked anything of her before. "All right, I'll teach you."

The smile that lit his face was so bright, Lavender blinked in astonishment. "Thank you, Lavender."

"You're welcome," she murmured before he dashed away, a little dazed to discover that Neville Longbottom had the most beautiful smile she'd ever seen.

* * *

Every Wednesday evening after dinner, Neville and Lavender met in the Room of Requirement. Lavender had been right - Neville's dancing was abysmal and her toes were bruised and blister-covered for weeks. But he tried really hard and it was as good a way to pass the slow winter months as any and Neville turned out to be a wonderful listener. When she found out that Seamus, her secret crush that only Parvati had ever known about, liked boys as much as she did, Neville had coaxed her into explaining her tears. He'd listened patiently while she poured her heart out before telling her that it would be all right and that Seamus may not like her romantically but liked her well enough as a friend. "Besides," he'd said, his voice falling into an even softer timbre than usual, "a girl as pretty as you are is bound to find someone who'll appreciate you." Parvati had said the same thing though in much more affronted tones, but hearing Neville say it made her think that maybe it was true. And she was oddly warmed by the knowledge that Neville thought she was pretty.

Sometime in February, after she'd gotten an awful grade on a paper for Professor Sprout, Neville had offered to tutor her in Herbology after their dance lessons. She'd insisted that they study Monday evenings in the library, telling herself that it was the most practical thing and that it had nothing to do with enjoying Neville's company. He'd agreed easily and said he didn't feel so guilty about taking up her time without doing something for her in return. Lavender had assured him that she didn't mind and was surprised to discover that she honestly didn't.

Before she realized what happened, it was April and Neville knew more about the truly personal parts of her life than even Parvati. When her uncle had been found dead behind a store in Diagon Alley, it was Neville she'd gone to. He'd wrapped his arm around her and laid her head on his shoulder. She'd pressed her face into the curve of his neck as she wept. As the tears subsided, she found herself sinking into the sweet, baby scent of Neville's skin and the ache of her uncle's death seemed to fade away for a little while.

She wasn't quite ready to admit it out loud, but she was more than happy that Neville had asked for those lessons.

* * *

May rolled around and all the seventh years were excited. Hogwarts was having a Leaving Ball for them. There was a kind of manic quality to their enthusiasm; they were, after all, poised to leave the relative saftey of school for the adult world beyond. Everyone was keen to hold on to the last few moments of their innocence before having to face the reality of adult life. The quest for a date was as intense as it had been for the Yule Ball. Lavender had been asked by several boys, all of whom were the handsome, popular sort of bloke she'd always gone for. She turned each one down, waiting, hoping that Neville would ask her. It wasn't that she fancied him or anything. Really, it wasn't. But she felt so comfortable around him. She could just relax and be herself. It was a nice feeling.

They were having their last lesson before they took their N.E.W.T.s. Neville had made great progress in the last five months; not only had he stopped stepping on her feet, he'd actually turned into a pretty decent dancer. As the lesson finally wound down, they'd collapsed on a couch, breathless and pleasantly exhausted. They sat in companionable silence, Lavender acutely aware of Neville's nearness, when Neville turned toward her and gave her that shy, sweet smile that made her heart skip a beat.

"I really appreciate you teaching me, Lavender."

She didn't respond for a long moment; his voice had become so warm and intimate or was that just a by-product of them sitting so close. She forced herself to swallow before smiling and patting his hand. "I enjoyed it."

"Even when I was tramping all over your toes," he teased.

Lavender laughed; she liked it that he felt comfortable enough to tease her. "Not so much then, but it got a lot better."

"Thanks."

They sat a little longer, neither inclined to speak. Lavender silently willed Neville to ask her to the dance, but the longer they sat, the surer she became that he was never go to. "Neville?"

"Yes?"

"Why did you want to learn how to dance?"

He didn't answer. She was on the verge of retracting her question when he took a deep breath. "You like to dance."

"I know that," she said blankly. "That's why you asked me to teach you."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "You like to dance and I like you." He shrugged and fixed his gaze on the floor. "I thought if I asked you to teach me, maybe you'd notice me."

An excited tingling spread through Lavender. "You fancy me?"

He nodded. "But I'll understand if you..."

"Why haven't you asked me to the ball, then?"

"Nervous," he admitted, "and scared you'd say no."

Lavender scooted closer to him and slipped her hand in his. "You'll never know until you ask."

Neville stared down at their hands then glanced up at her. A slow, incredulous smile spread over his face and he squeezed her hand. "Would you like to go to the ball with me, Lavender?"

Lavender smiled back and acknowledged the warm, fuzzy feeling than invaded her whenever he was around. She leaned forward and brushed her lips across his. "I'd love to."


End file.
